


The Kingdoms' Rulers

by Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:32:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit/pseuds/Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The kingdoms of Middle Earth didn't acknowledge The Shire or the Halfings much. The hobbits meddled in their own affairs and didn't acknowledge the other kingdoms either. The other kingdoms with their kings and queens didn't need the hobbits. Bilbo, among a few others were the only hobbits truly acknowledge by others, other than the men and women of Bree. No one else needed them. Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disease

The kingdoms of Middle Earth didn't acknowledge The Shire or the Halfings much. The hobbits meddled in their own affairs and didn't acknowledge the other kingdoms either. The other kingdoms with their kings and queens didn't need the hobbits. Bilbo, among a few others were the only hobbits truly acknowledge by others, other than the men and women of Bree. No one else needed them. Until now.

 

The search for answers started with the uprising of the disease. To this day, no one is sure where it had started, but soon it was all over the maps. The Shire however, had not yet report of disease. It seemed as if the place was completely healthy compared to the other kingdoms. And, being greedy of health, they gathered in Rivendell. Around in the circle gathered Elrond and his council, along with Thranduil and Legolas, The council of the dwarves from the lonely mountain, King Eomer from Rohan, King Aragorn and his bride Arwen from Gondor. They stood around in a circled, as they spoke. Soon, Elrond raised his hand and silence overtook them. The meeting had began.

 

In the Shire, it was different than most had thought. Storms raged across the small land and wind tore though the trees. Wolves ran wild, coming unexpectedly out of the shadows here and there. Crime danced and laughed in the dark of night. Since the War of the Ring, a true government had been set up. A king had risen amongst them. Of course the king had his knights and councilors but no queen. The king was a fine ruler, but could not help the poor. After a while, the king and his men stopped trying. The hobbits were hungry and cold and miserable but nothing could be done. All of the townsmen and townswomen had lost all hope. 

The rather large company made their way to the large stone wall that made up the border of the Shire. Elrond, Thranduil, and Gandalf stood in front of the gigantic wood and steel gate that stood in their way. Although they couldn't see the other side, they knew it was not how it had been. Suddenly, a figured appeared on top of the wall, peering down.

"WHO GOES THERE?!" He called, shouting. They all took a step back to look up at the man. 

"It is us, Elrond of Rivendell, King Thranduil of Mirkwood, Gandalf the White, and our followers."


	2. Broken Towns

The company walked through the great gates, watching as the guards stared at them. The guard who had asked who they were walked over, jumping down from a platform against the wall. 

"You are here to see the Kings I presume?" He sneered, looking at them unsteadily. The dwarves of the group returned his look of disgust, while the elves and Gandalf simply let it slide. 

"Yes, we are here to see you presumed Kings. Which way would we find them young man?" Gandalf asked calmly. The guard eyed him suspiciously, but nodded East and muttered an "east" under his breath. The company's leaders thanked the man and started East, while the dwarves kept staring at the man, but eventually continued along with the Elves and Wizard. 

Soon enough they came to a small village of tents and wagons that had been turned over. Children sat along the road, having around 0 to 5% body fat but no muscle probably at all. Their skin was greenish, itchy red patches spotting their small arms and legs. They reached up to them with baby sized hands, begging, pleading for a small crumb to eat. Babies cried in their mothers' arms, the mothers having no milk for them to drink. Dead animal carcasses were left near the edges of their towns, no meat of skin left at all. Sadly, no fathers was seen. The company shared each others' looks of worry as they passed through, town after town, them all looking similar. They hope they would reach the so called Kings' castle soon, for explanation and for help. 

 

The castle was enormous, especially for hobbits. Front gates opening, the small looking company peered inside. A vast courtyard was filled before them. Man sized hobbits stood in rows, a gigantic army in front of their eyes. Some members of the company gasped while others gawked in amazement. The armor the soldiers were wearing were to the equivalent beauty of an elves, but sturdy and rough as the dwarves' making. As they walked through the mass crowd, the army parted, making a path that lead to magnificent thrones. There were five of them, each with it's own different design. One was of blues and grays, another of greens and brown. On the right were one throne of reds and oranges, the last of yellow and whites. The middle throne was the largest of all, it's color the darkest of black. Ancient prayers were carved into it's sides, but of a language the company didn't know. The thrones were empty beside the middle one. There sat a proud and strong, but depressed and tired Bilbo Baggins. The king of all kings of all hobbits. His back was straight, but his eyes cast downward in a tired or thinking matter. His held his hands in his lap, folded neatly, and did not seem to notice the company. His stare at the ground was cold, harsh by authority and his cheek bones stuck out in a smart, knowing manner, his hands were scabbed and rough from work. He wasn't the same hobbit he was all of those years ago. He had been through too much to be. He was smarter now, wiser than he had once been. He had seen precious children die by cold hands. By his hands at a time. The company could see it. It killing him. Slowing eating his soul, biting at his heart. It was killing him. The ring had been nothing compared to this. Such a heavy weight to bare on his shoulders. His people, dying, nothing left to lose. Nothing left of him. 

His gaze rose to where they had stopped. He looked at them all, then rested on Thorin, Elrond, and Gandalf. He didn't smiled, but his eyes brighten a small bit. It was a little easier to breathe, knowing that they were there.

At first, Gandalf spoke, being his closest friend. "Hello, dear 'King' Bilbo." He smiled at getting to say the word. That finally made Bilbo smiled. It was small, but it meant so much. He bowed his head in honor to the old Wizard. 

"Hello, and welcome." The king said slowly, as if forcing his words from exhaustion. Suddenly the company bowed, with much respect to a king who acknowledge he had failed at his people. They seemed to understand the burden, as if they could feel it. They all bowed, even great Elrond and Thranduil, who were much older and wiser compared to Bilbo. He gasped quietly at the kindness and smiled more. 

"Thank you" he spoke softly, a glimpse of a more innocent version of him shined through his eyes.


End file.
